


It Took Me By Surprise

by 1InSaNeAnGeL



Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Kilgrave is a twisted SoB, M/M, Mind Rape, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Underage Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1InSaNeAnGeL/pseuds/1InSaNeAnGeL
Summary: This is an idea I've had for a while now. I want to give it a shot. Disclaimer: I don't own any of the MCU properties and/or characters used in the making of this piece. This just an idea I had and wanted to bring to life. Please comment and let me know of any grammatical/spelling errors, I will do my best to correct them ASAP! Enjoy!





	It Took Me By Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've had for a while now. I want to give it a shot. Disclaimer: I don't own any of the MCU properties and/or characters used in the making of this piece. This just an idea I had and wanted to bring to life. Please comment and let me know of any grammatical/spelling errors, I will do my best to correct them ASAP! Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aftermath can have its digging Claws...

“So, how are you feeling today?” Peter was curled up in the black, plush seat. His legs were tucked against his chest, one arm securing them in place. He was looking out the window when his uncle Bruce called his attention.

He looked over at him, dark brown eyes almost black. “I’m doing okay,” he began, speaking slowly, softly. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Any nightmares, flashbacks?” “Every night, every day,” Peter admitted with a weak smile. He looked away for a brief minute, then met Bruce’s eyes. Bruce’s warm, kind yet sad eyes. “Last night, I...I had a nightmare that he was in my room. He was standing over me, just staring. He wasn’t doing anything but I was still scared, afraid to move. I was afraid he’d tell me something and I’d be stuck.”

“Like he used to do,” Bruce said. Peter nodded.

“One time I went an entire day without orders, he didn’t call. Twenty-four hours without anything to do; it was the first time I felt free in months.”

“Peter, you know it wasn’t your fault,” Bruce began but the young man cut him off.

“It was, Uncle Bruce. He didn’t tell me what to do for a whole day, I could have run. I could have called for help, reach out to Pops and Dad. I didn’t. I stayed in that apartment and waited,” Peter took a deep breath, fighting back tears.

“You weren’t used to it, he was testing you.”

“And he won,” Peter’s laugh was short and bitter. “I didn’t leave, I was too scared. I was scared that if I stepped out of the room, he’d be there. I was afraid that if I said a word, someone would come in and shoot me. He sometimes threatened to slice out my tongue o-or make me choke myself to death...he never went through with any of them. But I believed him.”

“Peter, he kept you under his control for a year,” Bruce emphasized the passage of time, removing his glasses. “You felt cornered, you didn’t want to risk him trying anything. It’s understandable; there are three responses to a terrible situation: fight, flight, and freeze. You froze, it doesn’t mean you’re weak.”

“I had already gone through the worst of it, Uncle Bruce,” Peter said, “He raped me. The first night he had me, he raped me over and over. He made me tell him how much I enjoyed it; I wanted to throw up afterward when he’d...h-hug me and didn’t fall asleep until I passed out. He watched me fall apart. He violated me, body and mind.” Peter pointed to his head, “He’s still in here.”

“You are in control now, you’re free. And you’re healing.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, yes you are,” Bruce said, firmly. He reached out and took his nephew’s hand. His only nephew. He never thought he would ever have a family like the Avengers, much less a nephew that had a heart of gold and a brain that rivaled his and Tony’s put together. Yet here they were, and it was killing him to see his little Peter so, so broken.

The Other Guy was itching to come out, to go after this bastard for making “Pete” so miserable.

“I still have trouble sleeping,” Peter pointed out, bringing Bruce out of his thoughts, “Sometimes it’s hard keeping anything down. I wake up screaming, crying...if someone tries to hug me, I freak. I punched Dad in the face when he tried to wrap his arm around my shoulder,” a couple of tears came streaming down Peter’s cheeks. “And he said sorry. He said sorry.”

“We both know you didn’t mean to.”

“...Sometimes when I have flashbacks,” Peter said, ignoring Bruce’s previous statement, “I think about when we were in this hotel. This wasn’t the first night, I think maybe three months later. He was playing music, humming. He looked at me with a smile and held out his hand, asking me to dance. Without him telling me, I smiled for him. I smiled and I danced with him and I felt so...calm. As if the fear had gone away. I didn’t pull away, I didn’t try to fight. Instead, I stepped closer to him. I wanted to be closer to him. And I didn’t know why.”

“Defense mechanism; you knew how he would react if you didn’t show him affection.”

“I’m in love with him,” Peter’s statement unleashed a chilling silence into the room. Bruce straightened his back.

“Peter, you are not in love with Kilgrave.”

“Yes, I am,” Peter’s confession was laced with disgust, but his eyes were lighter than before. “I am, Uncle Bruce.”

“...What makes you think that?” Bruce said, deciding to broach this new change in topic.

Peter bit his lower lip, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath before opening them once more, looking Bruce straight in the eye, “Because I feel like being here is wrong,” he began. “I’m with my family, I’m in my room...I’m trying to be Spider-Man again, and it feels wrong. I feel like I should be with him. I want to know where he is, how he’s doing. Jessica left him drugged up when she came to save me, and she doesn’t know dosage very well. What if he’s dead?”

“Peter...if he is, that means he can’t hurt you ever again.”

“He wasn’t hurting me, Uncle Bruce! At first, yeah he was. But what he did is just a reflection of what he learned.”

Bruce took a deep breath himself. He knew what Kilgrave experienced in his younger years when he was Kevin Thompson. Kevin Thompson, a child dying of an illness his parents were trying to correct. “Peter, I know what he went through but that doesn’t justify his actions. It doesn’t change the fact that what he did to you, to Jessica, to Hope was rape. It was a kidnapping. He hurt you.”

“At first,” Peter hissed. “At first he hurt me, and then he...he softened his actions. He didn’t give me orders for a whole day, and I stayed. When he told me he loved me, I felt so happy. I felt like nothing could hurt me. He stopped using his power over me, and I was able to walk around the apartment without restraints. When I got sick he took care of me, never left my side. He nursed me back to health, and even though he could have...he didn’t, Uncle Bruce.”

“He knew what to do to get you to trust him.”

“I trusted him, I still do. I want to go back to him, Uncle Bruce. Please,” Peter pressed his hands to his face, “Please…”

Bruce sighed, it broke his heart to hear those words. Peter was struggling still, really struggling and it seemed that nothing was really taking effect.

He was stricken with PTSD and what could be Stockholm Syndrome.

* * *

 

Peter collapsed onto his bed, the door of his bedroom locked. After therapy, he just wanted to be alone.

It had gone horribly. He opened his big trap and said that he missed Kilgrave. That wasn’t going to help get him better, this sick, twisted desire to see the man who had kidnapped and raped him every day for a year. He knew it was wrong, it was disgusting. He should flinch at seeing a purple tie or coat; he should struggling with vomiting when he remembered the smell of his cologne; he should fight back the memories of his thin, warm hands running down his hips, along with his chin, and tracing the outside of his eyes.

But he didn’t. Not one bit.

The young hero grabbed one of his pillows and hid his blotchy, tear-stained face. He took a deep breath to try to calm himself; his chest felt tight. His body was shaking. His heart was racing wildly under his flesh. And the tears burned like acid against his skin. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t fight it off.

_“...You will never leave me, Peter. Never. We belong together, I love you.”_

_“Smile for me, my sweet.”_

_“You’re beautiful, Peter. You’re my Peter.”_

“Stop, leave me alone! Please! P-please…” Peter gripped his pillow to his chest, curling up into a ball. His lower lip between his teeth, one hand tugging at his hair. “Please, let me go now. You’re not here, you’re not here.”

_“Open those pretty eyes, Peter. I want to see the sun bounce off them...that’s it, good boy.”_

“Go away, please…”

_“Are you afraid, Peter? Are you afraid of me…?”_

“...No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it Begins...


End file.
